Second Chances
by BellonaBellatrix
Summary: Ginny writes a letter to her husband, and finds out that the past can catch up to her.HarryGinny kind of


Disclaimer: All the characters you see here belong to J.K. Rowling

Author notes: This story is inspired by We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shiver.

Second Chances

Ginny kept telling herself that she could face the day without them. It took a tremendous amount of effort to walk the seven blocks from her small hotel to the Chinese restaurant, and she looked at the ground, trying to remain hidden among the Muggles.

She felt relieved that the doors to the restaurant didn't slam shut on her hands and that the familiar sensation of someone prying into her mind was missing. It felt like a cheat when she made it through her meal, keeping her eyes on the shadows in the corners of the room.

But she didn't quite make it after all.

The waitress placed a fortune cookie on her table, and she reached for it. She should have known better about curiosity and things hidden within. She gently cracked the cookie open, amused at the thought of a Muggle forecast for her fate. She giggled at the fine print on the paper, wondering if a man had been writing away in the back of the room to…

_When one door opens, another closes. _

Ginny squinted at the fortune in bewilderment. She mentally corrected the verse in her inner-Hermione voice. It was supposed to be 'When one door closes, another opens'.

This little verse between her thumb and index finger told a different story. No one could ever have anything both ways. As soon as one aspect of your life was looking up, the other part—unhinged by either its own jealousy or the dark humor of some unnamed deity—would promptly collapse.

She shook her head, and looked again.

_When one door closes, another opens_…the message stated cheerfully. Then she didn't feel so well.

She hurried out of the restaurant, tossing the small slip of paper into the rubbish bin, and pulled her coat tighter. She knew what she would do when she got to the hotel.

&&&

_Dear Harry, _

_I'll have you know I'm writing this letter for my benefit as well as yours. I'm not going to be nice about this, and here's why. Nice doesn't mean good, Harry. It doesn't mean right, decent, or noble. I think back about Luna calling me 'nice' in front of a crowd of people, and only now, after smiling the years away with you, do I understand what she meant. _

_I'd rather be straightforward than nice. I know why I did it. To feel better about myself, and what had happened to me in my first year. I didn't really think he would change. I thought I would change. He would love me as a mother, and I would trick him. I would win in the end._

_Why did you do it? _

_Did you really think he could change? _

Ginny looked up from her desk, biting the end of her quill.

People throughout the years had etched little sayings and witticisms into the woodwork. Questions that they pass on to others. Their legacy, in a sense, and Ginny knew everyone wanted to be remembered for something. _Why? _asked one etching. _Why not? _responded another.

She could see shapes in the wallpaper that seemed to be turned inside and out, into the past and into the future. It was also quite hideous, a horrible color of fussia. She sighed and went back to her letter.

_You probably thought it would make you a good person. In a way, you're like him. Don't take that badly, Harry. You were two-sides of the same coin. He tried to prove that love didn't exist at every opportunity, and you tried to prove it did. And this was your opportunity. _

_I remember your face, then. It's hard because even in our better moments, we can't really see ourselves. So I'm going to describe it for you, so you can know why I left you. _

_We had figured out that souls could never fully be severed. They had echoes, affinities, and while the horcruxes had separate identities, with the right magic, the soul could be forced to rejoin. We had destroyed every horcrux except one, and I should have known at that moment you weren't going to go through with it. You kept it close to you, Harry, never let it out of your sight. With the others, you kept your distance. _

_Like we suspected, it worked. The soul in his precious hand-picked, hand-murdered vessel created a vacuum, and he didn't have a chance. His own horcrux became his prison, forcing both pieces of his soul together, and I suspect…I suspect he had changed so much that the pieces didn't fit together. We became Dementors that day, you and I. How can such creatures really have happiness, once that line has been crossed?_

_Then you looked at me, holding that damned locket, and said there was another way to defeat him. The only way, the way he despised. Hermione had given you a spell to restore youth, for our wounds. It could turn back time— just the merest inch of time— to heal the injuries and stop our bodies from betraying us—as well as our minds... She didn't mean for the de-aging potion to be used that way. _

_What have we done, Harry?_

_Or is it what did I do? _

_Did you ever stop to think that maybe I wanted children of my own? That I would have to see him again, every day of my life, and…did you ever think of what you were asking of me? I thought I could, you know. I didn't want to be the reason you became a murderer. I wanted someone else to be the reason. _

_I can't believe that Hermione, of all people, bought it. We waited the appropriate time, and we faked it so well, keeping me out of sight and out of mind. I became the means to an end. Somewhere inside your mind…you thought, 'To make this work, I must have a wife, and a wife only in name'. So then, w-you had a new born boy, the very image of you and none of me. I remember that Ron and Hermione, and Luna and Neville, came by. My parents came by, not noticing a thing. We became actors in our own lives. _

_You're an idealistic person, and even though the world has hardened you, I think you're a little naïve deep down. I used to adore it._

_It took nothing for you to hold him when he cried. You were happy that he cried because it proved that your experiment was a success. He was the picture of a perfectly ordinary child. The spell had the permanent side-effect of forgetting what had happened to cause any injury, so I had no doubt that he was no longer himself. That didn't matter. I now had two ghosts living with me, one free of his past life, and another trying to pretend that his never happened. You took my right to hate, Harry. _

_I got past the moment a few times and you excused it. I would have my hands full with a book, or I'd be up in the skies, flying. But then you demanded that I hold him. _

_You said that I was his mother._

…

_I haven't said this in months but I really do love you. I held him for you. I just pretended he was our son. It was easier than it should have been._

_I know what you're thinking. That my hatred botched the whole thing. He was a perceptive, little thing, after all. Perhaps he could sense it in the way I would pick him up, press the bottle to his lips. He never cried with me, Harry. _

_So yes, he sensed the difference. _

_I'm going to send you another letter, explaining what happened behind the doors of our house while you were away. It's already written in my mind. All I have to do is press the quill to the parchment. But first, I want a response. Not to the things written here, but I want to know that you're all right alone. With him. _

_Do you remember Mr. Crouch, Harry? You should every time you look at your son. _

_Sincerely,_

_Ginny _

_&&&_

Ginny set out for a walk. She put her hands in her pockets for warmth, and realized that she felt guilty.

She had turned out to be a terrible mother.

Suddenly she felt like she was being watched. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something flutter past, and with her old Quidditch reflexes, she caught it from mid-air. It was another slip of paper, another fortune.

_Mother is the name for God in the lips and hearts of little children_.

Ginny turned it over, and the numbers were in a gruesome march like ants over honey.

_7777 7777 7777 7777 7777 _

_7 7 77 777_

She dropped it and ran, not stopping until she locked the door of the room. She leaned against it, her legs threatening to give out on her. What if he was in here, with her?

Ginny quickly pulled out her wand and looked around the room, her heavy breathing giving her location away.

She shrieked when something tapped on the window, and she nearly cast a hex in that direction. Only a hex. He was her son, after all. But it was an owl instead of her living nightmare that had been sent to have another chance at what should have happened when she was eleven.

She opened the window without hesitation and took the letter. She watched the owl fly away for a moment then sat down. She felt an odd feeling of calm wash over her.

_I've never been better. Thanks for your concern._

_-H_

She sat unmoving until nightfall then moved to throw the letter away. Another letter fell out upon the table, as if it had been a serpent laying in wait.

_Dearest Mother, _

_Father has just informed me of your suspicions. I write to you only for his benefit. It is not for mine, because unlike you, I intend to take care of him. As you and I well know, the Imperius curse does not work on him. _

_So this missive will be attached with his letter in order to soothe your worries, but I'm sure you'll find another way to misinterpret my words. You speak of knowing the real me. Well, mother, I know you too._

_Your loving 'son',_

_Tom_

Ginny read the letter, and thought that he was losing his touch. Of course, he worded it so she would become anxious. But wasn't that the truth? He wanted her to be afraid, whether Harry was all right or not. She hadn't imagined his cruelty.

How did Tom know that Harry was impervious to that curse? As they had agreed, Harry promised—and made her promise—never to tell Tom anything of his previous self.

He had told her, in that double-edged way of his. With words of Harry's reply arranged in the pattern of a Muggle gun or bayonet. If she were to show this letter to anyone, they wouldn't believe her. Harry's fame left him with little secrets. His own son would know everything about him, just through hearsay. Ginny couldn't prove a thing.

She reached for her quill.

&&&

_Dear Harry, _

_I've made sense of it all. I know why he hates me now. _

_In some crevasse of his soul, heart, whatever it is, he loves you. I really think he does. Do you remember when he asked you that question? At age…at age seven, wasn't it? I think it was. All his birthdays seemed the same to me, you see. The same play, except with a simple numerical difference. It was after the party, the one we had to end that party early. We had invited Ron and Hermione's children, and he just stared at them until…well, that incident that you avoid talking about. _

_Of course, the cut was shallow. Of course, you said he wasn't used to sharing. You sat him down, and you told him that it was wrong. Harry, I'm afraid to say it, but I was laughing at you. He cried, I know. But at the sight of his tears, you folded. _

_Then he asked you if you loved him more than anything in the world. _

_Don't shake your head._

_I heard your answer. And it was then that I think my hatred was reciprocated. He wants to make your words come true. It wouldn't do for our Tom, not to be special. If he is reading over your shoulder, then he should know that his mother knows her son well. _

_A disaster, this. I imagine he read my first letter to you, and had some very interesting questions. I always knew he secretly read the letters addressed you, Harry. But I didn't do this to you on purpose. I had thought you'd be waiting for this owl specifically...Silly, little me, right?_

_So here we are, then. I don't know what Tom knows, or what you told him. I guess I have to wait to find out. _

…_He grew up with me, you know. _

_You were the famous Harry Potter. You worked for the Ministry, with Hermione, reforming act after act, and chasing every leftover dark wizard or witch who was alive and free. You did it for Tom, to keep him perfectly safe from his past. How thoughtful of you, Harry. You completely forgot the aim of your plan, by being so far away when he was starting to care. The only examples of real love during those long hours of the day had to come from me. The real true terror of opening my heart again, and you know what Harry? You were gone. I had no one else to talk to. We were stuck together. _

_As I said before, he was always different the moment you Apparated away. Did you know he was extraordinarily gifted at a young age? I suspect you may have known, even when you made the choice to play this little game of 'true love will prevail'. He knew what I really thought of him, and I tried to cover it up with a smile and ruffle his hair, thinking up as many games as possible. But he saw right through all that niceness and found out the truth. How could he not hate me when he did nothing wrong? _

_And he could have told you, at his leisure. I was his prisoner in that house, underneath all the smiles, and then you told him that no matter what he did, you would always love him. Well, how about this? _

_A week after you told him you loved him more than me, we had been playing hiding-seek. So, despite your beliefs, I did not lock him in a cupboard when your back was turned…I'm sorry. _

_I looked in the usual places, but he wasn't there. I looked in our bedroom. Saw the lump under the covers. I still had a smile on my face when I found the horrible dead thing. It was the Muggle's cat. They let her roam and I would leave out some milk in a saucer. _

_Tom was very methodical as a child. That was the day you commented on our new sheets by the way. _

_I went into the hall and screamed for him to come out of hiding. That the game was over. He didn't. I was afraid. I thought he had fallen somewhere and was hurt. I practically turned the house inside out. Actually, he was hiding in the Quidditch shed, and was curled up in the corner. I looked there last but isn't that the way…what you're looking for is always in the last place you look. You should know, Harry. _

_You think I hit him. You think he cried. No, to both. I held him and he didn't cry. _

_Surprise._

_You're probably wondering why I didn't wait with my proof. To show you what that child was capable of. To show you that ultimately, your love didn't matter one bit. Well, that's why. _

_Tom and I have our own secrets of silence. I made him help me bury the cat. I wanted to teach him that some things just don't go away. Then I had power over him. He thought I would tell you, and he worried about it for weeks. Actually, for the rest of his childhood. Up to the day before I left you, I would catch him staring at that place where we had buried the cat. _

_But little things like that happened all the time. Just ask your son. _

_-Ginny _

_&&&_

She awoke to the now familiar tapping. She hated to admit it but she was eager for the reply. It was a form of catharsis.

_LIAR. _

_You killed that cat. Poisoned its milk, and made me help you bury it. You told me that I was the reason you did it, that I made you do it, that I always made you do it. I was hiding in the damn shed because I thought you were goin-_

It went on and on, and she could hear his screams of rage in her head. She put the crinkled letter aside. Brought out her quill.

_How did you know it was poison? _

_-Mother_

She felt rather pleased with herself.

&&&

Tap, tap.

_Dearest mother,_

_Look out your window. _

Ginny looked, and she screamed.

_You made me do that, you know. Father was beginning not to love me anymore. But only just. I made quite sure he loved me to the end. _

_It was difficult, getting his body down here. Floo wasn't an option due to the international restrictions. Took some time on my part, and some persuasion, but eventually, a few choice people were very eager to assist me. I did have to Floo back to the house now and then, to answer your charming, little letters. _

_Caused quite a scene, didn't it? I did him a favor, really. They had stopped talking about him. Now, they will talk about him forever. And about us as well. They'll search the places nearby soon. I'm coming to get you._

_I'll tell you more about what happened during your absence over tea at that little restaurant you like so much. I should arrive right about- _

Ginny heard someone outside her door and saw his shadow under the space between it and the old wooden floor. She put the letter in her pocket, along with her fortunes.

And opened the door to her son.


End file.
